


Frozen Ground

by RandomJewels



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dadza, Dream Smp, Gen, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Psychological Trauma, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Trust Issues, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28619436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomJewels/pseuds/RandomJewels
Summary: In which Tommy stumbles upon Technoblade's cabin while running from Dream's wrath. And when Techno discovers his younger brother barely-breathing and bleeding on the floor, the rage he feels is immeasurable and the voices demand blood:And blood they shall be provided.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson, Technoblade & TommyInnit, Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 522





	Frozen Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> | TW | Brief mention of suicide and abuse
> 
> Hello everyone! My name is Random_Jewels, or just Jewels (or Jules), and this is my first fanfiction within the DreamSMP Universe. I am open to constructive criticism and would love some feedback in the comments in whatever form you wish, whether you just want to gush about the characters or you want to conduct a thorough character/chapter analysis. Whatever you want!
> 
> There are a few things I want to point out: well, more like one thing. This work of fiction will not stay completely inline with the SMP Lore and what is depicted as canon. In other words, this book can be considered an "alternative universe," though I wouldn't call it that. Some events won't be described as they happened canonically, while others might be described just how they occurred: it all depends on how it correlates with the story and its flow. Also, SBI will be considered family in this book. Even though Techno actively de-canonized it, I will still run with it in my headcanon. 
> 
> That's all for now!

A vibrant shade of crimson trailed behind Tommy as he slowly ventured deeper into the barren tundra. The frozen landscape was void of any obvious life-forms, stripped of any noticeable resources, and forever dominated by freezing temperatures. It was so cold, in fact, that the blinding pain Tommy was experiencing just a few hours ago was numbed to nothing but a dull, distant ache, forgotten to the icy winds howling around his ears and swirling in his knotted-hair. 

However, he was now experiencing a different type of pain: his exposed skin was tingling and burning from the plummeting temperatures, and it pulsed underneath his first layer of skin, as though his veins were frozen shut. Every so often, he would apply pressure to a certain area that hurt the most, but every time he did, he barely felt the contact. The numbness he once welcomed was now punishing him. 

His thoughts were confirmed when he lost control of his legs and landed awkwardly in the fine powder. With a whine, he tried to stand, but Tommy was unable to fully feel - let alone move - his right foot, which was completely vulnerable to the ankle-deep snow collecting across the ground. Somehow in the chaos of wandering - no, _escaping_ \- from Logstedshire, Tommy had lost a shoe. It wasn't something he fully noticed until he began his first hesitant steps into the frozen biome that surrounded the mainland. The odd geography somehow befitted those who thrived under Dream - and Dream himself - since they shared many core qualities: merciless, cold, and devoid of any life.

With tiredness nipping at his eyes, he allowed his sore body to sprawl across the scattered snow regain some energy, even though he knew it was testing death herself. Tommy looked down and gagged at the once pure shade of white now tainted with the grime and gore that coated his person like fresh paint. It was all various shades of red and brown, and Tommy knew exactly where the red was leaking from but hadn't a clue where he gathered all the brown. Was it dirt, or was it something that suggested something more sinister - something more fatal - happening to his body? _Only time will tell_ , he thought, aggravated at how quickly his body was shutting down on him. Is this what dying felt like?

Tommy wasn't sure he liked the idea of that or not. 

A pitiful groan escaped his raw throat, raw from his screams and where he still felt Dream’s hands clasp around his neck. But we would deal with those wounds later. Right now, he had to deal with the present issue: standing up.

With the last bit of hope trapped in his decaying mind, Tommy's fingers gripped the white material in a harsh grip. He had to keep going, _had to:_ but it seems his arms had other plans as they shook uncontrollably and let his face burrow in the snow.

One more try. But yet again, he failed, just like everything else he attempted in life. He failed his family, he failed his _brother,_ he failed L'Manburg, and now, he was failing himself. Techno hated him, Wilbur was fucking dead, and his father - fuck, where was his father!? He probably hated him too: after all, Tommy was the annoying little brother no one wanted the responsibility of. 

The realization let Tommy lay defeatedly in the snow without complaint, but it didn't stop his body from shaking with silent sobs. He came to a conclusion then, he liked the idea of dying in this god-awful field. He didn't just _like_ the idea, he was _longing_ for death to grip his withered heart faster, because if he was honest with himself, he didn't know how much more of this he could take, how much more pain, how much more _betrayal,_ his fragile soul could manage. He feared that anymore suffering would break him permanently and that the next time he had the opportunity to take his own life - _if_ there was a next time -, he would accept. Tommy was already cracking from the pain of his mental abuse - from all the manipulation and emotional torment Dream put him through when he was exiled. He entered this frozen-hellscape with enough emotional pain to support a lifetime of abuse, and now, he was writhing in physical pain.

Tommy's face burned as warm tears streamed down his cheeks, but almost instantaneously, they turned icy cold and stung the sensitive skin. The pain it caused, though, was so mundane to what he felt across the entirety of his body that Tommy almost welcomed the burn. It was distracting enough that maybe, just maybe, it would shock him back to reality. 

_Get up,_ a familiar voice rang out. Tommy lifted his head with a gasp, desperate to see the owner of the voice. 

"Hello!? Tubbo? You out there?" He screamed into the night, squinting through the snowstorm to try and identify a person in the distance. But there was no one, and the voice didn't reply back. Was it inside his head?

_Get up! Keep walking, you don't want to die like this, do you?_

"Hello?" No reply and Tommy let out a strangled sob: he was going insane. 

_Now!_

Tommy groaned through the madness, but it sounded more like a cry: but despite it all, he finally listened. He would always listen to Tubbo, even after he exiled him from his home.

With a new-found determination, he lifted his head again and began to squint through the raging snow, hissing when he noticed how much darker the world seemed from just a mere minute ago. With all the strength he could muster while in such a weak physical state, Tommy lifted his upper body until he sat in the snow, panting as he did so. His energy was already depleted from that simple movement, but he had to keep walking. _Had to._

Tommy tried to support his weight on both of his legs but quickly decided that there was no possible way. He knew his right foot was too far gone, even if Tommy refused to look at the wound. In a frantic attempt to survive the journey, Tommy pushed his hands through the snow - teeth grinding forcefully at the sensation - in search of a sturdy stick. Just when all hope felt lost, his fingers lightly brushed a rough surface, and he nearly screamed in joy when he wrapped his shivering hands around the large branch. 

Now he could really keep moving, just like Tubbo asked.

Tommy stood up, making sure to apply little weight to his damaged right foot, and ventured deeper into the blizzard. He climbed a shallow hill, gasping for air as he reached the peak, and Tommy was almost regretful in his climb until he spotted it: a glimmer. It was so faint that Tommy thought he imagined it at first, but no, as he stumbled closer, he could clearly see a light: but what made Tommy more excited was the puff of smoke lifting into the night sky.

 _Warmth,_ Tommy thought, anticipation bubbling inside his food-deprived stomach, _I might live._

A rush of energy surged through Tommy's body and immediately, he surged towards his last chance of survival. Panic bubbled in his chest when the light flickered from his line of sight, but he kept moving on, releasing a shaky breath of relief when it reappeared in the darkness. Tommy's frail legs climbed one more hill, and as he stood at the peak, he gasped at the cozy cottage that stood before him. It was so much closer than he thought, but he wasn't complaining. Quite the opposite. 

Tommy took a step forward with a wide smile - and groaned as his body tumbled down the hill, his bones aching and his mind screaming in agony, but there was no time to delay. He _had_ to reach the cabin, or surely he would die. 

A noise of admiration escaped from his chapped lips when he was directly standing below the porch. He clambered up the stone steps, taking no time to observe his surroundings or admire the construction of the quaint cottage. He just needed to be inside. Now.

His hand grasped the doorknob - his mind saying a rushed prayer for it to be unlocked - and as his body stumbled into the doorway and was greeted with the warmth of a raging fire, his body gave out from underneath him. Tommy couldn't care less, he was safe, his body could recover from the blistering cold.

Tommy opened his mouth to weakly celebrate but his eyes landed on a _very_ familiar red cape hanging from the fireplace like a stocking. 

No, there was no fucking way this house belonged to that man. If it did, Tommy was dead-

And just like, the energy and the excitement he felt moments ago was gone, and so was his consciousness as his body hit the ground and he surrendered to the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This is a short chapter, but I promise as the story goes on, it gets longer. The first maybe three will be short in length and slower-paced, but as time goes on, that will definitely change. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Remember to comment <3


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